


Late night life choices

by NikaAnuk



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bedsharing, Fluff, M/M, Pre-Relationship, after job, arthur thinks too much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-24
Updated: 2017-07-24
Packaged: 2018-12-06 10:55:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,601
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11599176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikaAnuk/pseuds/NikaAnuk
Summary: Arthur blinked, trying to connect the facts. What was Eames doing in his bed? Why was he half undressed...? Why was Arthur aiming his gun at him?





	Late night life choices

**Author's Note:**

> I found this list of tropes for Inception Bingo. Didn't have a chance to take part, but decided I like the idea of bedsharing. So here you go, fluff with absolutely no pretending to be anything but.
> 
> Big thanks to Donna van Toft and whatdoyoumean for the beta reading! 
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

The place was bad enough even without Eames in the same room.  
  
That he was here, made it even worse.  
  
 _Better_ said a small voice in his head, but he promised himself never to listen to it. It was clearly drunk.   


 

Eames smiled at him and then dropped his duffel bag. The thing was from seventies, and matched perfectly the orange wallpaper and the mustard-yellow throw on the bed. He looked quite happy, but then, Arthur was certain that Eames lived in similar surroundings. He probably felt at home.  
  
  
  
“Come now, darling. We got ourselves quite a nice room here...” he said, looking around.  
  
  
  
Arthur, who left the bathroom after a short but fruitful inspection, looked at him sharply. “I would not put my worst enemy in here,” he said and walked to the bed, wishing the floor was lava. Even lava would be better than this carpet.  
  
  
  
“And here I thought that I was your worst enemy.” Eames had no shame and sounded wounded.  
  
  
  
“You would enjoy it,” Arthur accused him, not looking up from his bag.  
  
  
  
He didn't see the smile, but he knew it was there. And he hated how much he liked it.  
  
Fuck this.  
  
  
  
“I'm going to sleep,” he said taking off his watch.  
  
  
  
He took off the suit jacket and hung it over the chair, wincing a little. Then followed his tie, neatly folded in the bag. He stopped with the first button undone and looked at Eames, who was still standing on the other side of the bed, watching him transfixed.  
  
Arthur cleared his throat.  
  
  
  
“Oh... Just... never thought that you sleep,” Eames said and then grabbed his bag and went to the bathroom.  
  
  
  
Arthur watched him with a mixture of horror and admiration for his bravery. He would never use that bathroom, not even to save his life. It was dirty, there was one yellow light bulb, the bath was brown and the mirror was marked with black dots.  
  
  
  
The door closed (but not locked, which he noticed of course, because of safety reasons) and Arthur continued undressing. Carefully he sat on the edge of the bed, it squeaked loudly, and then untied his shoes – that were ruined, thanks to two days of walking and running – and put them together under the bed. All looked just fine. He took off the socks, folded them together and pushed them deep into his bag. They needed a wash. Or maybe he should just throw them away?  
  
He took off his shirt and trousers and winced when his bare feet touched the floor. God only knew what lived in the carpet...  
  
Or in the bed, to be honest. He looked at the bed and sighed. It was disgusting, but after the two days of running, and fighting for his life, he could almost forget about how bad it was. He would not sleep for half of the night, that's for sure, but at some point... maybe for a moment, he could get some sleep...  
  
  
  
He pulled the covers and took a deep breath before getting into the bed. It felt wrong. It was all springs and it made _noises_. The possibility that he could fall asleep in something like this...  
  
But in the end, he closed his eyes, wrapped the duvet around and in this moment when his body started to relax and when he became surrounded by warmth, he fell asleep.  
  
  
  
What woke him up was the bed moving. He reacted on instinct. Pulled gun from his bag and turned aiming at Eames.  
  
Eames with wet hair, in a t-shirt; Eames who froze with one knee resting on the mattress.  
  
  
  
“Woah, darling... You don't want me here, you just say so...” he said, slowly raising his hands.  
  
  
  
Arthur blinked, trying to connect the facts. What was Eames doing in his bed? Why was he half undressed...? Why was Arthur aiming his gun at him?  
  
  
  
He blinked and slowly understood. The Ukrainian job. Liubiev fucked them big time and they were left without money and way back... Two days from Odessa to Kiev, trying to stay safe, his leather shoes ruined...  
  
He put the safety on and dropped the gun.  
  
  
  
“What are you doing, Eames?” he asked, running his hand down his face.  
  
  
  
“Trying to go to sleep, thank you very much. I never knew your aversion to me was that strong, darling,” Eames smiled now, but Arthur could see he was still tensed.  
  
  
  
He put the gun back into his bag and sat up, showing his empty hands.  
  
  
  
“Why here?” he asked, frowning.  
  
  
  
Eames raised his eyebrows and that was really annoying, the way he looked so smart-ass.  
  
  
  
“Because there’s only one bed in here?”  
  
  
  
Arthur actually gaped staring at him. Why didn't he notice? Was he that tired?  
  
 _Desperate?_  
  
How on Earth did he miss the fact that they had only one fucking bed in this fucking room? And that Eames would _of course_ want to sleep in it?!  
  
  
  
“Well, since it's all settled...” as if nothing happened (though Arthur still could see how tense his shoulders were), Eames got into the bed and turned off the light on his side. He lay for a moment, back to Arthur, Arthur still looking at him. “I don't mean to be rude, darling. But do you mind turning off the light?”  
  
  
  
Arthur looked at the small lamp on his side of the bed – orange shade and white plastic – and switched it off. For few seconds he stayed sitting up, but then slowly slide down, until he was on his back, staring at the dark ceiling.  
  
  
  
He wasn't tired anymore. He was wary. Eames was in the same bed. On his side, the wide shoulders and muscular back... He swallowed and froze, scared at how loud the sound was. Did he hear? Was he asleep? Was he thinking? Staring in the darkness? Was this the moment when Arthur turns and wraps his arm around his waist and buries his nose in the back or his neck or his wet hair and just enjoys that Eames is here, that he's so warm and so safe?  
  
  
  
If something went wrong, then he could always pretend he was asleep... Or maybe he could wait until Eames fell asleep... He focused on his breathing (ignoring the voice in his head, saying that there is no way he could touch Eames, without ending up on the floor with a knife in his guts); it was even and calm, but Eames was still not asleep. Arthur knew how he sounded when he slept, the light snoring noise, the way he sometimes frowned and then breathed in deeper...  
  
No, Eames was not asleep.  
  
  
  
The voice in his head started to cheer for him, because he could – of course – use the situation, yes? And just see how it went from here... But then the morning would come and Arthur was not sure how to react. He was scared – and he wasn't scared too often – that if he let Eames too close, he would get stupidly hurt when Eames would find someone else. He believed of course that Eames was smitten and that he meant every darling and every smile or suggestion that they should go to bed. But once they do... Once he gets Arthur... And then watching him doing the same thing with others... That would be just too much for him. He would probably end up killing this person, and then Eames and then everyone who would laugh at him for being so stupidly sentimental.  
  
Fuck.  
  
  
  
“I can hear you think,” Eames' voice was quiet, but almost made Arthur jump. “You know that we won't live forever?”  
  
  
  
Arthur knew. He felt it in his ribs from where the Ukrainian bastard kicked him, he remembered because his feet hurt, he knew because he just held a gun against Eames. He knew.  
  
  
  
“But what if it ruins everything?” he asked quietly, his voice very thin and unsure.  
  
  
  
“Then, we will sort it out, darling. Just like always.” He was still facing the other side, but Arthur could sense him tensing.  
  
  
  
That was a mistake.  
  
It was stupid.  
  
It's dangerous.  
  
He didn't want it.  
  
It wasn't about sex.  
  
That's going to be a mistake, when he wakes up.  
  
What if Eames won't understand?  
  
What if he walks away?  
  
What if they die tomorrow?  
  
  
  
Arthur took a deep breath, and like a man who decided to jump into the unknown water, he turned and wrapped his arm around Eames. He felt Eames tense.  
  
  
  
“Don't hit me,” he murmured, feeling even more stupid.  
  
  
To his surprise, Eames chuckled and slowly relaxed. And once his body stopped being rock hard muscle, Arthur found his way around it. He moved closer, feeling his stomach resting against Eames' lower back, his arm finally fitting around his waist. He smelled like all the amazing things that were Eames – cheap soap, warmth, alcohol, dust and sweat – and Arthur smiled, relaxing a little himself.  
  
  
  
And then Eames did something that sent sparks down Arthur's back. He covered his hand – resting now on his stomach – and entwined their fingers.  
  
Arthur cleared his throat and swallowed, Eames only murmured something and after a moment, Arthur realised that Eames went to sleep.  
  
  
  
Eames, cunning, joking, Eames with signs of PTSD and a problem with trusting people, fell asleep with Arthur cuddled to his back.  
  
Arthur sighed and closed his eyes, stopping himself from smiling.  
  
  
  
The two days of running away and fighting caught up with him again and the warmth of the bed and the other body pulled him back into the sleep.  
  
  
  
  
  
Llanelli, 22.07.2017


End file.
